Covenant
by Eleni Angel
Summary: A new hero has arrived in Los Angeles, evil beware... (Written with Marie Carrère)


Title: Covenant  
Authors: Eleni Angel and Marie Carrère  
Rated: R  
Synopsis: A new hero has arrived in Los Angeles, evil beware...  
Content: Rewrite of Season One's 'City Of', violence, foul language, Joss Fixers... :)  
Spoilers: AU Season One AtS  
Disclaimer: Angel is the property of TIIC, so in other words we seriously don't own anything. After this past season, we've pretty much disowned anything we might have had. We've been reading this seriously cool bundle of Vampire books, and have been totally been inspired to rewrite Angel from the first Season, though we might just combine the whole thing and leave the norm behind. So if you find something not quite kosher with the show, it's probably the AU thing.  
Distribution: Your Eyes, Fanfiction.net, Land of Denial, Perchance to Dream, and anyone else who is archiving our fic may have it, anyone else please just ask, We like to know where our work is going. (Psst...we like to get new site URLs, we've got a fanfic fetish...)  
Eleni's Dedication: This is to Elizabeth, whom I will be joining in New Orleans fairly soon, and we're going to paint the whole town red. And to everyone else who ever sent me feedback on any of my stories, especially Ryan, Michelle and Pamela, whose suggestions have always made everything so much easier. And of course, to for my beta, whose tireless work is really what pulls my stories together.  
Marie Carrère's Dedication: This is to one of my bestest friends Amy, who beyond all is amazing and continues to put up with the craziness that is me. Also, everyone who sent me feedback on my other fic. The next part should be out soon.   
Feedback: Send to eleni9724@juno.com and marie-carrere@cox.net.  
Lyrics: Karma Slave by Splash Down, A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton  
  
Eleni's Note: Does anyone have any good book recommendations? E-mail 'em to me offlist por favor.  
  
//Today I'll be spinning on a Wheel  
I'm a slave to a Wheel  
And there isn't any stopping  
What mistakes could I have made?  
I'm a slave serving time for a life that I've forgotten//  
  
Do you remember when you were a child? Do you remember those long ago fairy stories of vampires and demons, some of which have bled into your adult life? Well, let me tell you, most of the things that you heard whilst you were a babe in your mother's arms weren't the art of fiction. I, myself am a creature of night, childe of the Nosferatu, a vampire. For centuries I dined on the flesh and blood of the innocent, maimed and brutalized my way across the Northern Hemisphere. The blazing trail of destruction I left in the Old World caused the God fearing locals to deem me the Scourge of Europe. To them, I was a mighty beast in league with the devil.   
  
For decades, they taught their children that if they misbehaved, I would be summoned from the shadows to take them away. That if they disobeyed their Lord's Commandments, that I would deal out the punishment in Satan's stead. Funny to think that a creature that so despised the rule of God Almighty and all his disciples would be the one to help encourage the complaisance of the people as subjects of the Roman Catholic Church. Even now, it makes me laugh until I howl.   
  
Before I think, my mind transports me from the past and into this modern city. Los Angeles, City of Angels, the place full of more lost souls than any other betwixt Heaven and Hell. Junkies die on the streets, needles in their arms and smiles on their faces. Grand churches are left all but empty as the people join the congregation of those without dreams, those whom live without ever knowing what lies hereafter.   
  
All around me I can hear the sounds of the City of Sin, cars honking, people swearing. Husbands and wives cheating, stealing, lying, and dealing. It's common place to see women peddling their own flesh to put food on their table and a roof over their head, though not necessarily in that particular order. And who could care about a few dead whores in the morning? The police sure didn't, they had bigger things to worry about, like when their next check was going to come from. Where they were going to get their next hit. If the next person they tried to arrest was packing and would blow a hole through their chest. With all that looming over them, who could blame them for letting a few more of the city's youth slipping into the shadows.  
  
Every day the city bustles with new immigrants who came from all over the United States and surrounding countries, each hoping to make a name for themselves here, each of them dreaming to be a star. And every night, the city's seedy underbelly shows itself as each and every one of those fresh, hopeful faces begins to succumb to the hard life of being a Los Angeles party hopper. It's as if they think that just one more party will cause some big wig producer to spot them and give them a job. Really, it's like watching a druggie jonesing for his next fix.   
  
People won't wonder why I care. They won't ask themselves who the tall, looming man was that saved them from that gang member hopped up on PCP. No, they won't. People are sheep, and ignorant that way. They'll just go home and persuade themselves that it was all just a bad dream, and that I really don't exist. And no one will ever thank me for what I'm doing, and some will just gawk and wonder why I don't ask for monetary gifts. The answer's simple.  
  
I'm a man on a mission. You see, a hundred years ago wise gypsies sought to punish me for my crimes. And now, what seems like eons later I'm still atoning, still trying to right the wrongs of the demon within me. And I care. Evil had better watch out, because I'm moving in.  
  
And Los Angeles is going to be my town. Not theirs to play with any more.  
  
//I'm a slave of Karma  
Spin the Wheel and I'm a king reborn  
I'm a slave to Karma  
I'm coming back, yeah, I'll be coming back  
But for the last time.//  
  
One of the things that I missed allowing myself indulging in is liquor. I'm sitting here on this barstool, slurring drunkenly to the man next to me. I know he doesn't care, but I keep talking. For almost an hour, I ceaselessly babble about the one thing on my mind - Buffy. My friend just sits there nursing a beer of his own and nodding absently. I can sense the hopelessness and despair in this one, he won't make it another year, that's if his liver doesn't give out on him first.  
  
"She was a really, really pretty girl. No she, she was a hottie girl. She, she had - I mean - her hair was... You know? - You kind of remind me of her. Because, because - you know - the hair. I mean - the hair." It's an endless ramble, I'm sure he's thinking that I'm crazy right about now. "Girls are nice." Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's about to get up and leave me to myself.   
  
But there's one difference between him and me; he's drunk and I'm not. I glance up warily as the object of my curiosity waltzes up to the bar and hands the bartender a couple bucks to cover the beers and use of the pool table. He and his buddies then wrap their slimy arms around a pair of tipsy young college coeds. Once they've past, I covertly swing around and follow them outside.   
  
By the time I find the three young men, who happen to be some vampires, and their obviously terrified companions, I have the drunken idiot act firmly back in place. Stumbling, I approached them asking about my car. The men angrily attempted to get me to leave them to their meal, even threaten violence. But I cannot allow that, stuff like violence, that's not allowed.  
  
"Excuse me. 'scuse me. I'm sorry. But has anybody seen my car? It's big , and it's shiny." The one that seems to be the leader of the pack saunters up to me in full game face, hoping to scare me off. Yeah, good luck with that.   
  
"Piss off pal," the vampire growls, loosening his grip on the girl he held by the throat. I walk a little closer to him and he snarls at me. At my comment on his foul breath, he swings the girl into some trash cans and swipes at me with clawed hands. His buddies attempt to tackle me, running from opposite sides and I flip my arms out, stakes delivered by a mechanism that I'd worked out after a few long days recently.   
  
In a short amount of time the idiots are dispatched of, and the two trembling girls are quivering, sobbing in a frightened huddle. The blonde had a trickle of blood running from her temple, the smell of it was hard on my senses, her build even worse. It was just a reminder of something that I could never, ever have again.  
  
"I-thank you." one of them stammers, the one with the head wound.   
  
"Go," I urge them, trying to slink back into the shadows, there's no way I can calm enough in the face of flowing blood to soothe my vampiric countenance away before they could see it. Still, she walks towards me, and annoyed, I step out into the pale illumination of the street lamp. "Go home," I growl, and she grabs her friend and runs, screaming into the night.   
  
//Today I'm a king on the Wheel  
Still a slave to the Wheel  
But this time around I'm smiling  
Keep me cautious, keep me safe, just in case there's a chance  
I can leave this Wheel behind me.  
Stand in the Middle and you won't get dizzy  
Stand in the Middle and you won't fall down  
If you stand in the Middle you can keep your balance  
Stand in the Middle while the Wheel spins round and round//  
  
The last thing that I expected when I entered my sub-basement apartment was for someone to be there. You'd think after all of the unexpected visitors that I'd had in the last couple of years that I'd invest in some sort of security system or something like that. But alas, I'm one of those old-fashioned guys who's trying really hard to pretend that the digital age never happened, and that people still talk to each other over the telegraph and listen to actual music on their record players. I smirked, remembering words a kindred soul had spoken about technology. And then I remembered my visitor. The guest who wanted to tell me a life story - mine.  
  
"I don't think you grasp the concept of me wanting to work alone," I replied once he'd given me his sales pitch. "Less liability that way, no more innocent people dead."  
  
"More like you don't want to open yourself up to having a friend," the man retorted, his faint Irish brogue an aching reminder of a home I left behind so many years ago. "Because then you'd have to talk to someone, instead of hiding down here and brooding your years away. It's not the way to get things done, you need help to fight the good fight."   
  
"I get the job done," I answered, both my voice and posture defensive. Who was this stranger, this nobody to come into my home and tell me how to do my job. He might know a pretty rhyme or two about my past, but he knows truly nothing about me.  
  
"Sure, you slay one or two a night, working yourself to the bone to go after the big kahunas," the man granted, nodding his head and folding his arms. "But the ones that you let get away would lead you to the real big fish in this town, and not just the fledglings grandstanding to attempt a reputation. The ones that you let get away because you're too exhausted to deal with some double nighter go back out there and kill, maim, and make more drones than you could possibly imagine. That's why you need help, my friend. That's why the Powers sent me to you."  
  
"The Powers sent me a fucking riddle box," I scowled, beginning to walk into my bedroom. His next words stopped me cold in my tracks.  
  
"You miss her, don't you?" he asked. Slowly, I turned around, not even noticing that I was growling until I realized that he'd backed up against the far wall, closer to the door. "Chill," the word sounded even more odd to me with his lilt than it ever had in the sixties. "I was just sayin' that I know that you miss her, and the road to redemption will inevitably lead you back to her. You were supposed to come here, to grow as a person, but you can't do that if you don't make human contact. Because if you're cut off from the world, you're going to slip farther and farther away, until suddenly you find yourself so deep into the dark that you can't find your way back. You came to Los Angeles to fight crime, to atone for your sins. But you've become a shadow - a faceless champion of the hapless human race. And that's the danger."   
  
"And if I work with you it's a straight shot, that what you're saying?" I snap back, anger boiling in my thrice damned blood as I stand here listening to this strange little man. It's then that the somewhat familiar smell in the room hits me. "You're not human, are you?"  
  
"Please," the little man answered in annoyance. "I'm completely human." He sneezed, and his face was covered with short, blue quills. "On me mother's side. My father, he's a Brachan demon, lucky me I'm a half breed." In that instant, I could feel myself beginning to like this guy, and then the warning bells went off in my head.  
  
Run.  
  
Run away now.  
  
Before it's too late...  
  
//I'm a slave of Karma  
Spin the Wheel and I'm a king reborn  
I'm a slave to Karma  
I'm coming back, yeah, I'll be coming back  
But for the last time.  
I'm a slave of Karma  
Spin the Wheel and I'm a King reborn  
I'm a slave to Karma  
I'm coming back, yeah, I'll be coming back  
But for the last time.//   
  
The silent purr of the phone as it rings unnerves me in just the slightest, most terrifying way. I cannot decide if I want her to answer, or if I want to receive the answering machine. Right now, I'm so weak that I'm doing the one thing that I promised myself I would never do. Dammit, I miss her so Goddamn much that I can't seem to care that I was the one who'd insisted on a clean break. My body's shaking.  
  
"Hello?" Her sweet voice was like a lullaby, wrapping around me and coaxing me to relax and sleep. I could listen to her talk all day, but I can't bring myself to answer her. I can't break my rule entirely. Not right now. Probably not ever. She deserves a clean break, a normal life with a normal guy who can make her happy. No matter how much that makes my insides twist at the mere thought of her with someone else. This isn't about me.   
  
"Hello?" Shit, far too much internal dialogue. I should have hung up a long time ago, now she probably thinks that I'm a stalker calling just to hear the sound of her breathing. At times during the beginning of our relationship, that is how I had felt - like a stalker. Jerking, I slammed the headset on the base, my body a quivering mass of nerves.   
  
"Satisfied?" a voice asked from the doorway.   
  
"Jesus Doyle," I grumbled. "You scared the shit out of me."  
  
"And you probably gave the poor girl a complex," Doyle answered, flopping down on the only chair in my apartment. Sighing, I resigned myself to the fact that this man wasn't going away, and that I was going to have to make the most of it. "I had a vision this morning, and when the blinding pain stopped, I wrote this down."  
  
He reaches into the pocket of his worn jacket and hands me a rumpled piece of paper with the words Tina - Coffee Spot written on it. "Tina?" I ask.   
  
"Nice looking girl, needs a bit o' help," Doyle shrugged.  
  
"What kind of help?" I asked, leaning against the kitchen table.  
  
"Not sure, that's your problem. I only get the names," he replied, taking a sip from what I assumed was a bottle of alcohol. I couldn't quite tell, it was wrapped in a brown paper bag like what a wino would carry.  
  
"I don't get it, how the hell am I supposed to help her if I don't know what she's in danger of," I growled, flinging my arms up in the air in frustration.  
  
"That's where the socializing part comes in handy," Doyle answered. "Get into her life, make friends, and show up unexpectedly when she's in trouble. It's a shoe in."  
  
I remember sitting there, arguing with him for several more minutes before giving in. A few minutes later, I pulled up in front of the Coffee Spot, nervous as hell. This wasn't exactly the sort of thing that I was used to doing. Back in Sunnydale I helped Giles read portents and I'd show up to help Buffy when things were bad.   
  
I spot Tina begging her creepy boss for more hours, promising to work Saturday nights when her fellow employees would want to go out. I can't help it, but I already feel pity for this young woman. So many people come to Los Angeles without realizing just how much it takes to make it here, and I'm not just talking about money. LA will eat at your very soul, grab you tight and drag you down into the dark shadows, feeding on your misery like...well, like a vampire.  
  
After a few unsuccessful attempts to get her attention, I finally settle with asking her a mundane question like what time this place closed. She gave me such a startled look when I spoke, and questioned whether or not I was talking to her as if she shouldn't exist or something to that extent. I preformed some sort of parlor trick, catching a falling coffee mug before it hit the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces.   
  
We speak a bit about happiness, and she leaves, promising to talk to me when she gets off at ten. And so I wait patiently by my car, and out she comes. She's wearing some sort of evening dress, probably going to some party or another, and she's wielding a can of mace or something to that similar extent. "Wow, suddenly I feel underdressed. Want to go get a drink or something?" I ask, and nearly cringe the moment that the words leave my mouth. It sounds like some sort of lame pick up line, one that she probably hears every night that she works, and every time that she goes out to bars. She aims the can of mace directly at my face.  
  
"I know who you are and what you're doing here. Stay the hell away from me. And you tell Russell to leave me alone," she says, her voice is trembling with a thousand emotions. The one that's easiest for me to pick up on is fear, second to that is rage. Whoever, whatever, this Russell guy is, I know that I don't want to know him. And I have an inkling that's what Tina needs help with. I didn't know that the Powers That Be wanted me to deal with boyfriend troubles. I thought that that was what Dear Abby was for.  
  
"I don't know anyone named Russell," I answer, hoping to avoid the burning sensation brought by the chemical in the canister she holds.   
  
"You're lying," she says frantically, shaking her head as if I was messing with her perception on reality. I guess she really is jaded, doesn't recognize help when she sees it.  
  
"I'm not," I insist.  
  
"Then why were you watching me?" she demanded. Good, very good. She's very observant, and that's an admirable quality in a girl these days. So many of them have their heads up in the clouds and can't tell night from day unless it's color coordinated.  
  
"Because you looked lonely," I lied, pretending to be admitting what was going on in my head. "And I figured that we have something in common." I traced a line on the pavement with the toe on my shoe, trying to pretend that I was anxiously awaiting her reply. She apologized, and I accepted, telling her that it wasn't necessary. Then she started talking about the only help that she wanted was a ticket home - not that she was asking for money. I took the bait.  
  
"Where's home?" I asked.  
  
"Missoula, Montana," she answered, a slightly sheepish look on her face. But when I heard the name of the town, I couldn't help but smile. It was nice to be well traveled sometimes. She seems to understand my look. "You've been to Missoula?"   
  
"During the depression. - Ah, my depression. I-I was depressed there. - It's pretty country though," I hammed the whole thing. This talking this is sort of tricky, because I can't expect her to believe about me being there during the depression unless I told her I was a vampire, and if I did that, I would have an even harder time trying to get her to trust me again.   
  
"Lots of open land, lots of nothing else. - I came here to become a movie star. But they weren't hiring. - Well, I have a fabulous Hollywood party to go to. Hence the glamour. The girl giving it owes my security deposit. - Well, it was nice threatening you."   
  
"You need a lift?" I ask helpfully. I'm surprised when I'm not immediately shot down.   
  
//How do all the Wheels inside the Wheels revolving,  
Go on, and on, and on, and on, and on...  
Spinning on the Wheel the souls of One evolving,  
Live on, live on, live on, live on, live on...  
Anyone who claims that they know the answer's coming back again...//  
  
When we arrived at the party, Tina's friend Margo was walking around video taping the people there. It was your typical Hollywood party, all the wanna be glamorous people trying to socialize and 'network' with big executives and producers.  
  
"Tina! Smile for the camera. And who is this hunk of tall, dark and handsome?" Margo seems to be going a mile a minute, and I think that she's not a very good friend from the way that she's looking at me. I've seen Buffy go berserk when other women acted like this girl, and I know that it means something, just not what.   
  
"Just a friend. Margo, I really need to talk to you."   
  
"Uh, grab yourself a drink. I'll be right there." She's evading questions, and already I can tell that she's not going to be of any help to Tina and her plight for money. Flaky friends aren't the kind of people that you want around your money, especially if you're having to pinch pennies as it is. Looking up, I notice that Tina is moving around, and so I follow her.   
  
We wonder over to the refreshment table, and she picks up a tiny finger sandwich. "Cute. Everyone's a star," she drawled sarcastically. I watch with a slight smile as she brings it up to her mouth and takes a tiny nibble.   
  
"Who's Russell?"   
  
"He is someone I made the mistake of trusting," she almost snapped at me. You can't really blame me for being persistent. I want to get this case over with and move onto the next one. I need to keep hitting the pavement until I can reach the point where I can start helping because I like it again. Right now, it's just about clawing my way to level ground.  
  
"Here I am," Margo sang out, approaching us with a glass of spiked punch in her hand.   
  
"This won't take long," Tina assures me as she follows Margo off to the side. I can't blame her for wanting to take this out of the limelight. Conversations over money can never go right unless you're on the receiving end of a very large check. And even then there are going to be some problems.   
  
"I would not leave that one unattended." I hear Margo teasing Tina as they wander off.   
  
Now alone, like always, I drift around the party, unsure of what it is that I need to be doing. I can't watch Tina all the time, she'd boot me out of her life in an instant. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an older, slightly balding little man approaching me.   
  
"You are a beautiful, beautiful man," he said, and I gave him a weird look.   
  
"Thanks," I reply, my voice slightly rattled from the experience.   
  
"You're an actor." He said it like it was a question, and I tried to respond the only way that I knew would get him to leave me alone.   
  
"No."   
  
He reached into his coat pocket and handed me his business card. "I'm Oliver. Ask anyone about Oliver. I'm a fierce animal. I'm your agent as soon as you call me." He sounds pathetically eager to have me as a client, who knows, maybe he's hard up for cash too. That seems to be the song and dance that everyone here is peddling underneath their finery.   
  
"I'm not an actor."   
  
Oliver laughed slightly, clutching his chest like he was trying to keep from ruining his 'tough guy' image. "Funny. I like that. I like the whole thing. Call me. This isn't a come-on. I'm in a very serious relationship with a landscape architect." He walked off, leaving me staring at his card with a frown. And it's then that I hear a voice that's so familiar that it almost makes me homesick, if it weren't for the face and personality that I knew were attached to it.  
  
"You know, they asked me to come back and read for a third time! I'm and actress. I don't put up with things like that!" I can hear Cordelia's 'stage laugh', and almost picture the way that I know she's tossing her hair with a winning smile.   
  
"Cordelia?" I turn around and spot her speaking with two men in business suits. I know from experience that she's hoping that they're some sort of link to the people who make the movies, the commercials, the television shows. I hate to burst her bubble and tell her that there are no important people at this party, the only ones here are those who are equally desperate for work as she is.   
  
Cordelia spins, and I'm almost amused as I see surprise light her face. She almost lost that California Cool that she was always so proud of. I'll bet that she never thought she'd have to deal with seeing someone from Sunnydale until after she'd made her big break - when she could rub it into their faces. "Oh my god. Angel?"   
  
"Nice to see a familiar face," I tease, putting a sheepish smile on my face to try to pry some information out of her. Does this mean that Buffy and her friends are here too? Was this what she'd done after high school? I was so wrapped up in the guilt of leaving her alone to fight that I never really questioned her about it.   
  
"I didn't know you were in LA. Are you *living* here?" She sounds surprised, so maybe she was as clueless as I pegged her for.   
  
"Yeah. You?"   
  
She flashed me a beaming smile. "Malibu. A small condo on the beach. It's not a private beach, but I'm young so I forbear," she admitted with a laugh. I was proud of her for a second, not everyone here does so well. I fight the urge to ask her about Buffy.   
  
"You're acting?" He had made it a question, because if he hadn't heard her earlier conversation, he wouldn't have guessed...well, actually it seemed like the thing she'd want to do.   
  
She gave another one of her stage laughs, tossing her hair as if I were someone to impress. "Can you believe it? I mean I just started it to make some quick cash, and then boom, it was like my life! - So are you still -" She held up her hands like claws and made a mock vampiric game face. "- grrr?"   
  
"Yeah, there's not actually - a cure for that," I reply wryly, awkwardly shifting my feet to keep from rolling my eyes at her inane question. Yeah, I wish. Things would be easier.   
  
"Right. But you're not evil, I mean your not here to bite people?" Ah, now I see what the question was about, she was fishing to see if I was Angelus or not. I decided to give her the vague answer, just to keep her on her toes. An evil thing to do, but it gives me little joy.  
  
"No, I'm here with a friend." I hide a covertly wicked smile by looking behind her.   
  
"Oh, good. Well, it was nice seeing you, but I've got to get mingle-y. I really should be talking to people that *are* somebody," I don't know if she ever understood what I'd said to her. Strangely, she was just the same old Cordelia Chase.   
  
"It's nice that she's grown as a person."   
  
//Who's at the center of the Wheel  
The inventor of the Wheel  
or another spinning servant  
I'm the Master of my Wheel of my very own Wheel  
Universal and recurrent//  
  
Turned out that this person that I was supposed to protect Tina from was another vampire. Russell was one of those who sought out his food, made them trust him and then took it all away from them. Even as Angelus, I had looked down my nose at psychotics like that, deeming them raving lunatics looking to get caught. Though Russell had a good thing going there. I doubt that anyone would have ever pieced enough information together to get a conviction or whatever it is they're doing to criminals these days.  
  
And though I didn't accomplish my mission - Tina died because I failed her - there was an unexpected, though I'm not quite sure it was unintended, rescue this evening as well. Cordelia had also been duped into Russell's little crew, though she was more of a midnight snack to him than a long term project. I wonder how many times she'll have to go through experiences like this before she realizes not to randomly trust people, or if she'll finally just not come home one of these nights because of something like that. I wonder why I'm sitting in my apartment brooding when I should be hounding Doyle for another assignment.  
  
My gaze sweeps around the room and comes to rest on the one thing that has become the bane of my existence. Most people would say that there's nothing threatening about a telephone, and that I'm just having issues with myself. But those people don't know what it's like to want someone so badly that you have to fight making the simple phone call to bring them home to you. I think my hand is shaking as I reach over to pick up the handset, my fingers almost slip as I dial the achingly familiar number.  
  
"Hello? Hello?"  
  
The sweet melody of her voice dances around me once again. God, I'm turning into such a stalker, and I think California has laws about such things. Last thing I need is for her to put some sort of trace on the line and have me arrested for bothering her. I let the seconds pass by before I slam the phone back down. Just in time for Doyle to walk in and catch me. I hope he hadn't been there too long...   
  
"What happened to Russell?" he asked, taking a seat in the easy chair, I think it must be his favorite spot or something. I can tell that he's dying to know the blow by blow news of the fight. I choose to be deliberately cryptic.  
  
"He went into the light."   
  
"And yet you don't seem to be in a celebrating mood." To Doyle, everything is an excuse to celebrate. To drink, to womanize and have fun. It's tempting to take him up on his offer, just to have some more human contact. He was right in the beginning, and now I'm starting to crave it.  
  
"I killed a vampire. I didn't help anybody," I reply. My shoulders sag and I sink down onto the bed. He stands up, looking surprised and gestures.  
  
"Are you sure about that? Because there is a girl upstairs that's as happy as can be," he teases with a slight smirk. Now he's got my curiosity running, because I don't have a clue as to whom he's talking about. Margo? One of those two girls that I saved from being vamp chow three nights ago? My train of thought is interrupted by a loud screech upstairs. Doyle and I share a glance before racing up the stairs to find Cordelia shrieking with a duster in her hand.   
  
"Ah! Look over there! A cockroach! In the corner. I think it's a bantam weight!" She looks a little hysterical now, but she turns to me and flashes me a brave smile. "Okay, first thing. We need to call an exterminator - and a sign painter. We should have a name on the door!"   
  
"Okay. I'm confused," I glance at the both of them, wanting an answer from either. Cordelia is the one who chooses to open her mouth.  
  
"Doyle filled me in on your little mission. So I was just saying, if we're going to help people, maybe a small charge. You know, something to help pay the rent, and my salary. You need somebody to organize things, and you're not exactly rolling in it Mr. I-was-alive-for-200-years-and-never-developed-an-investment-portfolio," she said, and instantly I was humbled. The great Cordelia Chase was lonely for friends, and she couldn't seem to kick the mission that Buffy had instilled in each and every one of us, the need to help those who could not help themselves. I had just one question.  
  
"You want to charge people?"   
  
"Well, not everybody. But sooner or later we are going to have to help some rich people, right? Right?" She's attempting to amend her answer, fishing for something that I'm not sure of.  
  
"Possibly, yeah," Doyle backed her up. Oh, I think she wants a job, and he's going to help her plead her case to me. As if I were some penny pincher who would turn them all away. Besides, even if Buffy didn't really like her, she would kick my ass for throwing someone she knew out on the streets. Especially since I knew that she was trying to change.  
  
Cordelia gives me what I'm sure is her best smile and starts and order. "Hand me that box. So I think that we should charge based on a case-by-case analysis, but with me working for a flat fee. - I mean, um…that is, - if you think that you can use me?" She shuffles on her feet, unsure for what I'm sure is the first time in her life. I stand there, pretending to ponder the suggestion. And then I hand her the box with a smile of my own.   
  
"Of course this is just temporary - until my inevitable stardom takes affect," Cordelia replied, taking the box from my hands and walking away with a small grin on her face. I turned to Doyle and gave him a look. He chose that moment to explain his eagerness in more than words.  
  
"You've made a good choice. She'll provide a connection to the world. She's got a very - humanizing influence," he said with that Irish-lilt that has me aching for a home that's long gone. I can tell he likes Cordelia - really likes her.   
  
"You think she's a Hottie."   
  
"Yeah, she's a stiffener alright, I can't lie about that. But, you know, she could use a hand," Doyle admitted. I smirked, clasping my friend on the shoulder, silently wishing him all the luck that a relationship with Cordelia Chase could need. I have a pretty good idea of what it would be like for Doyle, after spending some time watching Xander Harris and the others interact with her.   
  
"True." Doyle wasn't wrong, Cordelia was out here in a big city where no one cared that she was head cheerleader or that she was the richest girl in school. She was going to need lots of help to keep from biting the dust before she had the chance to thrive.   
  
"You know there's a lot of people in this city that need helping," Doyle drawled.   
  
"Hmm. So I noticed." Look, note my humble sarcasm. I may not have a sense of humor yet, but I'm working on it.   
  
"You game?" I thought hard as Doyle quirked an eyebrow and watched me.   
  
"I'm game."   
  
//I'm a slave of Karma  
Spin the Wheel and I'm a King reborn  
I'm a slave to Karma  
I'm coming back, yeah, I'll be coming back  
But for the last time.//  
  
Some how we wound up at this club that Doyle knew by reputation. It was a demon bar, but there would be no killing here tonight - there was a spell against any harm committed inside these walls. Besides, it was usually frequented by a group of harmless demons looking to sing a little karaoke.   
  
The owner of the place was an anagogic demon who liked to call himself the Host. He's a very strange man, who looked at me like I was a piece of meat. I could tell that he wasn't in the habit of meeting ensouled vampires, but he kept a vaguely polite distance. It was a nice place, kind of felt like just the safe haven I'd been searching for.  
  
And then through the buzz of the alcohol racing its way through my veins I felt it hit me like a ton of anvils. I could feel the familiar sensation that I always equated with peace and home singing at the cold wall that I had erected around my heart. The woman up on stage sounded so familiar, her voice so full of pain.  
  
"If I could fall into the sky / Do you think time would pass me by / 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles / If I could just see you tonight," she pulsed along with the music, unlike any of the annoying and tone deaf people that usually could be found up on stage. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Host approaching, his eyes still half on the stage as he 'listened' to the performer.  
  
"She's full of hurt," he admitted to me. Hey, I thought those things were supposed to be confidential. Sighing, he sat down and I realized that this girl was someone he knew quite well. "If I ever find out who made her this sad, I will beat him to death myself." We both sat in silence, neither of us looking at the stage as we sipped out drinks. The girl sang on, pouring her heart out before her audience.  
  
"It's always times like these / When I think of you / And I wonder / If you ever / Think of me." I couldn't believe the utter agony that this woman was exhibiting. It was like she was mirroring my own soul.   
  
"She's got amazing pipes," the Host smiled, trying to brighten the mood. "She's had it hard, being the hero she is. Say, you two would make a dynamite couple..." Ouch, that was below the belt. I haven't known him all that long, and I'm not into relationships right now. Instinctively I began to try and back out of any setups.  
  
"Well, actually I just came out of a relationship and I..." I trailed off, spinning to look at the singing temptress. When I got a good look at her, my eyes nearly bulged out of my head. I blinked a few times, it just couldn't be true, she wasn't here, I was imagining things. But when I opened my eyes again, the vision was still there.  
  
"Angelcakes, you all right?" the Host asked. "I mean, I know she's a hottie, but-"   
  
I whispered her name in wonder as the last strains of the song she was singing faded into the darkness of the club, and the patrons exploded in a round of applause. I watched in awe as the singer disappeared into the shadows, leaving me in shock. I blinked again. The only thing sounding through my head was her name.  
  
"Buffy..."  
  
THE END 


End file.
